“So, who is she?”
He takes a drink of his wine.
I park my chin in my hand and stare at him. “Waiting.”
He points a thumb at himself.
I frown in confusion.
“You’re looking at him,” he says.
My jaw drops. “What?”
Reaching across the table for my hand, he continues, “Remember when I said I used to work too much?”
I nod, flashing back to our conversation at the French café the day of our first kiss. “I do.”
His voice turns soft and vulnerable as he laces his fingers through mine. “I don’t want to become that guy again. And I feel like I have a new chance with you, Abby. To do things differently. To be a better man.”
A lump rises in my throat. “You’re already an amazing man. You don’t have to change for me.”
He clasps my hand tighter. “Thank you. But I want to change some things. I want to make sure I can be that man for you and for my daughter. If I drive myself into the ground working too much, that’s no good for anyone. I want to be around for both of you.”
“So you’re not hiring anyone? You’re going to do it all yourself?” I tilt my head to the side. “I don’t get it. That’s even harder, since you have all this work now with Gabriel’s venture. It seems like you’d be even busier.”
“I would . . . if I were an active investor,” he says. “But I talked to Gabriel a few days ago and said I’d rather front the money and then take a backseat role. I told him I’d prefer not to be involved as much in the day-to-day, and he said he could deal with those terms. I’ll make sure he has all the right people in place to execute his plans, and then I can step back. Besides, he already has talented people working for him. Present company included,” he says, tipping his head to me.
“And he was fine with that?”
Simon smiles and nods. “Incredibly fine with it. Plus, Hayden will be starting kindergarten in the fall, so I’ll have a few hours each day while she’s in school to work on Gabriel’s business or on whatever new opportunity comes my way. I’ll still benefit from what I expect will be his success, he’ll still benefit from my investment, and in exchange I gain something invaluable,” he says, his blue eyes holding my gaze. “Time.”
A tear slips down my cheek. I’m happy for him. For the choices he’s making. For the way he wants to live his life and raise his daughter. “I love that,” I say softly.
“Time is the most precious thing of all, and the easiest resource to waste if we aren’t careful. I’m lucky because I already have more than enough money to pay the bills. Now, with this choice, I can have time to spend with my two favorite people in the world—you and Hayden. I don’t need to hire someone to replace you, because I want to be there for my girl.”
How can I not fall more in love with him for this choice? The fact that he’s such a great dad has always been part of the allure for me. It’s been massively appealing how good he is with his daughter. What can I say? I thought I was an everything girl, but it turns out one of the things I like most in a man is how good he is at taking care of his kid. That’s my penchant. Some women go for arms, some like humor, and some love a bad boy.
Me? I’m drawn to this amazing, gorgeous, handsome single father. I want to smother him in kisses and then jump his bones. “You know it’s ridiculously hot how much you love your kid?”
He grins broadly. “You’re just ridiculously hot.”
“I mean it,” I say seriously. “You have to know that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.” I place my hand on my heart. I can feel it flutter. “The way you are with Hayden melts me.”
A slow smile spreads on his face, and he whispers, “Thank you.”
“And I can’t think of anyone more perfect for the job,” I add.
“Yours are big shoes to fill, though.”
I wag a finger at him. “Hey, handsome. Don’t think you’re ever wearing my shoes.”
He cracks up, holding his hands in surrender. “I don’t want to wear your shoes. But I wouldn’t mind taking yours off and undressing you.”
I survey the restaurant. “At this fine dining establishment?” I ask in mock surprise.
He shakes his head. “Let’s get out of here, beautiful.”
He pays the check and takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. His touch is possessive, his firm grip reminding me how strong he is, and that strength turns me on.
Outside, he quickly hails a cab, and on the drive to my tiny apartment, we kiss like crazy. His hands loop through my hair, and his lips claim mine. Then he travels to my neck, and my body hums with desire for him.
Soon, but hardly soon enough, the cab arrives at my building. The instant the door to my apartment shuts, his hands are all over me. We frantically tear at buttons and zippers, undressing and stumbling to my couch. Shoes come off, socks, pants, my skirt, my top, and his shirt. My hands explore his chest, his firm muscles, and those arms I can’t get enough of.
“We only have thirty minutes. The sitters need to go home,” I tease.
He wiggles his eyebrows. “So much I can do to you in thirty minutes,” he says, as he strips off my bra and panties. We sink onto the couch, naked together, then he kisses me like he can’t get enough of me while his fingers glide between my legs. I moan and sigh and murmur.
I’m in heaven with him. The way he touches me is everything I’ve ever fantasized about. I want to give my body to him, let him have me, take me, because he knows just what to do. I lift my hips as he strokes me, his mouth on my neck, my shoulder, my breasts.
As my sounds grow louder, he groans hungrily, pressing his firm body to mine, his erection hot and heavy against my skin. His arousal turns me molten, and it’s not long before I’m shattering in his hand, calling his name.
As I come down from my orgasm, I grab his shoulders and pull him on top of me, opening my legs for him. “I want you. I need you. I’ve missed you,” I tell him, because it’s been a few nights since we’ve been intimate. I’ve learned quickly that dating a single father means alone time is hard to come by. I’m not going to say that’s ideal. But I’ll say this—it makes me want him more.
Right now, I ache for him. Exquisitely.
“Missed you, too,” he says, as he clasps my wrists, pins them over my head, and rubs his erection against my center. I moan loudly and arch into him.
“Condom,” he mutters. “Let me grab one.”
I wrap my legs around his bare ass, not letting him go. I shake my head. “I’m on the pill. Are you safe?”
He nods. “So safe,” he says, and that’s all I need to know.
He sinks into me, and I’m in another world with him. Sheer, unadulterated pleasure spreads through my body as he makes love to me. He pins my arms above my head the whole time, and I love how he overpowers me, how he takes me, how he moves inside me, whispering sweet nothings.
Love you. Need you. Crazy for you.
Then the tempo shifts, and so do his words.
Fuck. So hot. So tight. I want you to come all over me.
He thrusts faster, harder, deeper, and now this is fucking, pure, carnal fucking, as the man I love is wild with me, exactly how I want him right now. He takes me to the edge, as all the white-hot pleasure in my body curls inward then bursts into a thousand fiery sparks.
In seconds, he follows me there, groaning my name as he comes inside me.
He breathes out hard, and I sigh happily. So damn happily. I wrap my arms tighter around him, savoring the afterglow.
Our chests are sweat-slicked, but I don’t want to separate from him. Instead, I lace my fingers in his hair. I kiss his cheek, his eyelids, his lips. “Did you know I’m dating the hottest manny in New York?”
He cracks up, and I laugh, too. He’s so much more than a manny. So much more than the hot single dad.
He’s the best man I know.
Epilogue
Simon
* * *
Three
months later
* * *
Hayden swings our hands together as we head down the tree-lined block in the east 80s, on the way to her first day of kindergarten. She skips, and to say she’s eager to start school is an understatement. My girl is fearless, and it’s one of the things I most admire about her.
“And if the teacher asks how you spent your summer, what will you say?” I ask.
“So much stuff! I learned how to fence, and I became awesome at it,” she declares, and that’s sort of true. Surprisingly, she’s stayed with the sport, attending lessons and classes a few days a week. Taking her to the club is one of my favorite things to do, partly because she enjoys it so much, and partly because Abby joins us at nearly every class and we watch her progress together. Abby cheers her on and gives her tips, and then we lean closer, talking about how great she’s doing. I’m sure if anyone paid attention to us, they’d gag over how adorably in love we are.
Let them.
Fucking let them.
“That’s true,” I say. “You’re a regular pirate musketeer sword fighter. What else?”
“We went to London and saw the big jewels,” she continues, and that trip was fantastic, too. The three of us rode the London Eye, visited Big Ben, checked out the museums, and admired the crown jewels.
“And we were all perfectly fluent in the language,” I tease.
“Except they talk funny over there. But funny good,” she says as we near the school entrance. “Oh wait! There was one more thing that happened this summer. The baby eagles left their nest. We watched the eaglets become eagles.”
“We sure did,” I say, and that was yet another thing the three of us did together. Funny, how the eaglets in the poplar tree became matchmakers for Abby and me. Checking out “Eagle TV” every day, trading texts—experiencing little moments of those hatchlings growing into badass birds of prey—played a part in the two of us falling in love.
Eagles and zebras, French braids and restaurants, angel food cake and language lessons, and so many stolen moments that turned real.
At the school, I give my daughter a big hug goodbye, then I wave as she heads through the doors. As I walk away, I check the time.
Abby’s at work and won’t be free until lunch, so I duck into a coffee shop and use my phone to catch up on a few small business items that need my attention. As I enjoy a coffee, I answer an email about a new project I’m dabbling in—dabbling is the way I like to work these days. A few hours while Hayden’s in school is all I need to satisfy the business itch.
When I wrap up the email, I call it a day. I wander up Lexington for an hour, then back down, enjoying the September morning that rolls into noon, when I meet the woman of my dreams for lunch at a sidewalk café on Seventy-Eighth Street, with a chalkboard menu out front.
She greets me with a kiss, soft and delicious, which leaves me wanting more. Somehow, I manage not to turn it R-rated.
“You look gorgeous,” I tell her.
“As do you. So give me all the details,” she says as she sits down. “How was the drop-off? Was she nervous? Or fearless?”
“Guess.”
“Fearless, of course,” she says, beaming.
I tell her everything, and then we talk about her morning teaching and her lesson plans for the rest of the week. When the meal ends, I walk her back to work, giving her another kiss that I hope leaves her longing for kisses later tonight that don’t stop.
“Can’t wait till bedtime,” I whisper.
“Me, too.”
That’s because we live together now.
We’re not the Brady Bunch family. Sometimes we argue. Sometimes we’re tired. But you know what? Somehow, it’s all working out, and I’m the happiest guy in the world with the two ladies in my life—the girl I love madly and the woman I adore to the ends of the earth.
They are my everything.
Another epilogue
Simon
* * *
A little later . . .
* * *
Lights twinkle on the dance floor as I take the woman in black into my arms.
“This dress is gorgeous,” I tell her, my eyes raking over Abby’s basic black sheath. She wears heels that look to be four inches, and she’s still little, like she told me she would be. But we fit perfectly as she glides against me, swaying to the music at Harper and Nick’s wedding. “But it has nothing on you. You look amazing, my love.”
“Thank you. It hardly looks like a bridesmaid’s dress,” she says, glancing up at me as she runs her fingers down my tie. “And you are as handsome as ever.”
“Thank you. And your friends are so happy.” I nod in the direction of the bride and groom enjoying a slow dance.
“They’re your friends now, too,” Abby points out.
I nod. “You’re right. They are.”
I love how our lives have meshed. We’ve had dinner and evenings out with Kristy and Tyler, and the two of us have played pool with her gang of friends, too. She’s no pool shark, though. She still can barely knock in a ball. Seems every time I try to teach her, we get distracted.
No complaints there.
No complaints anywhere.
In fact, as my eyes scan the reception room, I can only think of one thing that would make my life better. This.
Maybe it’s too soon. It’s definitely unplanned. But the second the idea touches down, it takes hold and digs roots. And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it needs to be our next step.
I cup her cheek in my hand. “Marry me.”
She startles and wrenches back. “What?”
“I love you madly. I want to be with you always. We should get married.”
She blinks, parts her lips, and speaks slowly, each word taking its time. “Are you really proposing to me right now?”
I laugh, mostly at myself. “Yeah. I am.” Then I brush a kiss to her lips. “I didn’t plan this. I don’t have a ring. But I’ll take you shopping tomorrow. All I know is I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want this,” I say, casting my gaze around the room, “for us. Forever.”
I hold her face in my hands and look into her eyes. They’re shiny, and she licks her lips. And then, I propose. “I love you. God, how I love you. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?”
Abby
* * *
I’m not a girl who dreamed of a man getting down on one knee in a horse-drawn carriage. I’ve never expected a shiny ring presented in a champagne glass.
All I’ve ever hoped for is this kind of love.
I have it, and I have so much more.
And that’s why his unexpected and unplanned proposal is perfect for us. It comes from his heart, and that’s how I answer him—from mine.
There is only one answer.
“Yes.”
* * *
THE END
* * *
Did you enjoy getting to know Simon’s buddy Tyler? Stay tuned for THE HOT ONE, Tyler and Delaney’s second-chance love story, releasing in March 2017! But first, get ready for things to heat up for Gabriel and his love interest, Penny, the woman who runs the Little Friends dog shelter, where Wyatt (WELL HUNG) and Nick (MISTER O) volunteer. THE ONLY ONE releases in December!
* * *
THE ONLY ONE
* * *
Let’s say there was this guy. And he gave you the most mind-blowing night of sex in your life. And you never saw him again.
Until ten years later.
Now, it turns out he’s the ONLY ONE in all of Manhattan whose restaurant is available the night of my charity’s big event.
The trouble is, he doesn’t recognize me.
This woman I’m working with is so damn alluring. The first time I set eyes on her, I was captivated, and I can’t get her out of my mind. Even if it’s risky to tango with someone I’m working with, she’s a risk I’m willing to take.
The trouble is, she won’t give me the time of day.
But I’m determined to change that.
&nb
sp; The Hot One
At first glance, stripping naked at my ex-girlfriend’s place of work might not seem like the brightest way to win her back. But trust me on this—she always liked me best without any clothes on. And sometimes you’ve got to play to your strengths when you’re fighting an uphill battle. I’m prepared to fight for her . . . and to fight hard.
The goddamn nerve of Tyler Nichols to reappear in my life like that, all sculpted muscle, toned abs, and a hard body that drove me wild far too many nights. Not to mention the knowing grin, those mischievous eyes, that chestnut hair I want to run my fingers through. That man is nothing but a cocky, arrogant jerk. A cocky jerk. A jer . . .
Except . . . he’s not any of those things at all.
That’s what makes it so tough to resist the HOT ONE . . .
* * *
THE HOT ONE releases in March 2017!
Coming Soon!
Sneak Preview of FULL PACKAGE, my next hot & hilarious romantic comedy told from the guy’s POV! Coming in January!
* * *
Chapter One
* * *
I have a theory.
It goes like this — it takes the human brain at least three tries to fully process something when it’s the opposite of what you want to hear.
Take now.
I’m on the third attempt.
Even though I can clearly hear the words the woman on the phone says, I’m sure if I repeat them, in the form of a question, she’ll eventually say what I want her to say. “The deal fell through?” I try again, because soon the bad news she’s serving up will magically morph into something good. Like if a rice cake turned into pizza. Preferably a cheese pie with mushrooms.
The Sexy One Page 16